Twilight sat in the corner, facing the wall.

She was in her room, but she wouldn't be for long. She didn't want to see. She didn't want to see anything any more. She knew that if she took one more look at the world, one more look at the place she once called her beautiful and warm and hospitable world, she would die even more inside, and her last day would be filled with more pain than she was in already.

What a wonderful place Equestria had been before today. She had been born here. Raised by her loving parents. She played with her few friends, learned new things from books as she grew older, became experienced in magic...she had crammed her prodigious mind to the brim with knowledge and skill and she knew that all she wanted was to have friends. And then she had moved to Ponyville by request of the Princess.

The Princess. Oh, the Princess, always looking out for her beloved Twilight. So caring, so nurturing, so intelligent. All she had ever wanted was for her unicorn protege to discover who she was and become all that she could be. She owed the Princess so much.

Damn her to hell.

She had a life! She had a life that she had lived, and should, no, DESERVED to keep living. Twilight's head burned as she remembered her friends. She learned everything from them. Everything Twilight was as a pony, she owed to Applejack and her kindness, Rarity and her beautiful, respectful dignity, Rainbow Dash and her bravery, optimism and strength of will. Fluttershy and her gentle kindness. Pinkie and her endless cheerfulness, never faltering to make you love life and love who you are.

The long days of friendship, working together to bring out the strengths in each other, the warm sun and green fields and soft clouds and blue sky.

She had poured everything into this. This was her life now. To be with her friends, be there for her friends. Her entire LIFE was dedicated to her friends and the experiences they had shared.

Twilight's numb face burned. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. Years of friendship, and magic, and everything she and her friends had done, shot. All of it, shot! Her world was going to be destroyed. She was going to be erased from existence. And for what reason? The 'greater good', she supposed, mentally spitting on Princess Celestia. She had trusted her. TRUSTED HER.

Twilight thought about killing. She wanted to kick down the wall, find the first pony on the street, and use magic to rip their stomach open. She could see it all in her head. Hot, wet viscera spattering her hooves and chest, dripping down her chin and onto her neck. The mottled, fleshy internal organs strewn across the pavement. She would stab them up through their neck with a blazing purple dagger, skewering their brain in one last moment of hell-screaming pain before they were sent to infinite nothingness.

But she could not.

She felt nothing.

Even the water that filled her burning tear ducts were emotionless. She had lost the part of her consciousness that allowed her to feel burning rage, or soul-rotting sorrow. All she could do was think of how every little minute she spent crying, hurting, choking on her own disgusting empty sorrow, was pushing time ever closer to her last.

Twilight realized with a sickening twist of her gut that she could not be killed.

You can't kill somepony who is already dead.

She recalled just a few minutes ago, when she received her mail. She had known it was Culling month, but she had been a fool, so unprepared for the idea that such a horrendous thing could happen to her. She was just one pony in a million, right? And only a hundred were Culled every year? No way she of all ponies would be selected.

She was pretty nervous. But on the inside, she knew she was safe.

Looking back, Twilight felt idiotic. So ignorant. You never know a good thing until it's gone.

She had opened her mail. She still remembered those last few seconds.

Those last few seconds of her bright, beautiful life.

Twilight remembered using quick bursts of magic to flick through her mail. She remembered passing off the less important-looking envelopes to be dealt with later, and coming across one very official-looking envelope. Cream-orange paper, with fancy gold trim that shimmered a little in the morning light, tightly sealed with a little stamp bearing the royal insignia.

She had opened the envelope.

At first she couldn't believe what she was reading. She thought it was a joke. A joke, right? A prank by someone who really, really wasn't funny.

She had sweated and felt a growing pit in her stomach as she levitated a parchment scroll out of the envelope, unfolding it to its fullest.

Shaking from head to toe, breathing shallowly, Twilight read, each sentence burrowing deep inside of her psyche.

Dear Recipient,

We regret to inform you that you have been selected to be Culled and will die shortly.

We understand that nothing could have prepared you, mentally or emotionally, for the information contained within this letter, and we apologize from the depths of our hearts that you must undergo the mental and physical agony that comes with it. It was originally our intent for the deaths involved in the Culling to be quick, painless, and quiet, but the original method that has been used for the past years has become ineffective due to reasons that will not be disclosed.

Therefore, we have chosen a different but more effective method.

This letter has been magically laced with a powder that, when inhaled, attacks three specific parts of the brain. One, the part that allows speech. Two, the part that allows voluntary muscular control via the nervous system. And three, the part that facilitates magic. You have likely been breathing in this powder for about a minute, more than enough for it to take effect.

To put it it simply, you will find that you are currently unable to speak. Slowly, your limbs and/or will freeze in paralysis, and you will be unable to cast a spell to help yourself. The neurotoxin in the powder will soon cause you to die.

Please understand that this is for the greater good of our nation. You are dying for a just cause. Children will have more food to eat. The thirsty will have more water to drink. Your death is paving the way for a future of harmony.

You have roughly twenty seconds after reading this before you become paralyzed. This letter will burn when your life is extinguished.

We apologize again for the pain you may undergo.

Sincerely,
The United Equestrian Government

Dizziness began to overtake Twilight. In the sickening hollow feeling, her limbs beginning to freeze up very, very, slowly, and the her throat going helplessly numb, she vomited violently all over the floor.

She had coughed, stumbled with her final strength into the corner, and had sat down.

And here she was now, on the cold, indifferent wooden floor of the library. Soaked with vomit, empty, cold and clammy, and just wanting to go back.

A single tear escaped her face, frozen in eternal sorrow.

She wondered again, with her final spark of life, why she was being 'culled' if she wasn't weak. This would never be answered.

To cull is to kill off the weak, she thought blankly. Make fewer unneeded mouths to feed. Does that mean I'm weak?

Am I...unneeded?

That was Twilight Sparkle's final thought.

The world was no longer bright and beautiful.

Author's Note

This was the first time I took a crack at writing something dark. As with all dark stories, it probably has a few flaws, and almost certainly needs to be expanded upon. Comments and critiscism are welcome as always!